


Together

by sunraysinthesea



Category: Id:Invaded (Anime)
Genre: Fluff, Mental Health Issues, arithmomania, counting freckles, fukuda tamotsu gets therapy, gender neural reader, get ya boi the love and care he deserves, no drilling in this damn house, pre-drill!fukuda tamotsu, spoilers for his arc I guess, v slight mention of self harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-27
Updated: 2020-10-27
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:00:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27225418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunraysinthesea/pseuds/sunraysinthesea
Summary: You'll get through this, together. That's what family is for, isn't it?
Relationships: Fukuda Tamotsu/Reader
Kudos: 12





	Together

**Author's Note:**

> _'' Arithmomania is a mental disorder that may be seen as an expression of OCD. Individuals suffering from this disorder have a strong need to count their actions or objects in their surroundings.''_

With a light tug, you free your wet hair from its towel hat prison, letting it flop down your back as you sluggishly sit down in front of the mirror, reaching for the hairbrush after setting the blowdryer aside. The moment your arms come up to fix your hair, another pair of arms wrap themselves around your torso, your lover's reflection staring back at you on the vanity mirror of your shared bedroom.

''You're exactly six minutes twenty-eight seconds late,'' Tamotsu states matter-of-factly as he nuzzles into your neck, breathing in your scent. 

''You have been counting?'' your lips curl up as you crane your head to press your lips on his temple, a tinge of amusement in your voice. You knew better than to ask. The man has a way with numbers--painfully so at times, so much so that during your first stages of dating, you thought he was just punctual or extremely precise, but as the days you spent together built up to months, then years, you have found out that it was not just limited to time-related matters, he would count just about anything. How many steps you have walked for the day, how much beads does it take to make the perfect bracelet for your wrist, how much time is left before you have to take the tray out of the oven, he has pointed them all out so casually it took you a while before you realized it was a bit odd. 

There was also a time when you woke up to him counting strands of your hair, which was more concerning than disturbing for you, much to Tamotsu's confusion and relief. He still refuses to tell you how many strands he had counted then, brushing it off saying that he did not get to finish counting before you woke up and you made him lose count, but judging by the way he could barely keep his eyes open, you could hazard a guess on just how long he has stayed awake. 

''Of course, I've been counting.'' He chuckles, ''You know I don't like being away from you for too long.'' The flimsy excuse makes you exhale through your nose before you smack your lips against his cheek, waving the blowdryer in his general direction. 

''You could at least help if you're going to keep me caged in your arms.''

Tamotsu plants a brief kiss on your wet hair and takes the blowdryer from you with a sigh. It feels oddly intimate, having him pet your hair and wave it around as he works to style your hair into perfection--a perfection that will not last when the two of you jump into the bed as a tangle of limbs mere minutes later. 

Running his fingers through your freshly dried hair, his hands brush over the back of your neck. 

''Oh? Was this here before?'' In response to your confused hum, he adds, ''The mole. Or freckle, since it's more on the flat side.''

''I wouldn't know.'' you chuckle, ''but new ones have been appearing, I think. I think there are two new ones on my stomach.'' You throw yourself onto the bed before stretching your limbs and patting the space next to you. 

Tamotsu hums curiously, his hand coming to rest on the hem of your shirt as he nestles snugly to your side. ''Can I see them?'' 

''Sure.'' 

With that, he lifts your shirt up to your neck, his eyes immediately finding the new brown dot on your rib. His fingers start brushing over the moles and freckles alike, almost as if playing a game of connect the dots. Soon, your giggles fill the room as his fingers trail from your ribs up to your neck, then down your arms. He exhales through his nose fondly as he sits up to get a better look at you, and lifts your arms to check for any sneaky dots hiding from him. 

His eyes roam over your form, fingertips following closely behind as he takes a moment to stop and prod at your ticklish areas, eliciting surprised yells and giggles alike. 

''You're doing the thing.'' you reach out to cup his cheek, smoothing out your brows before they crease in worry. He hums in response, focused eyes still trailing over your freckles,

''Yeah. It's... not as severe as before. It feels good to feel that the therapy has been somewhat helpful.'' Tamotsu leans into your hand, ''I'm glad you were by my side through everything.'' 

A common misconception of his condition was that it was nothing serious. People think it's just about being smart--which, besides the point, Tamotsu is, or just being extraordinarily good with numbers, but the number of times Tamotsu trashed and wailed in your arms, his hands fisting in his hair tightly and sometimes pulling some out as he sobbed in pain, the number of times you were unable to shake him off his trance when he was focused on something told you this was something more. 

The idea of consulting professionals about your approach comes to you when you were shaving the right side of his head after a particularly harsh episode. The sight of his head is still hanging low when you turn off the buzzer breaks your heart as you gently hook a finger on his chin, tilting his head up to plant a kiss on his newly-shaved hairline. 

''You look quite dashing with a side-shave, I must say.'' you try to lighten up the mood. Your only response is a weak smile.

Tamotsu is a towering man, and as a smaller person, it's hard for you to prevent him from harming himself when he gets into an episode. With your mind set, you start your research. 

You remember spending hours in white halls, trying to figure out a way of best disclosing the issue to your boyfriend without setting off alarms or making him uncomfortable about it with the doctors. They had told you that getting therapy would be a big, scary step to take, but encouraged you to try, giving you pointers on do's and don't's. 

When you tell Tamotsu, he's surprisingly compliant about it. 

''It hurts, darling. I'm tired. If something can be done to ease... whatever _this_ is,'' he vaguely gestures at himself, ''I'm willing.'' he gives you a tired look, as if uncaring, but when he gets diagnosed with arithmomania and you're sitting on the dull, uncomfortable chairs of the waiting room for the first therapy session, his bouncing leg and tense form tell you he is anything but. Lacing your fingers with his, you hope to provide him some comfort as you flash him a soft smile, and he answers your hopes by squeezing your hand and sporting a smile of his own.

It gets better from there. 

He doesn't get migraines as often, he is able to control his responses to his triggers, slowly but surely, his episodes dwindle, until he is somewhat comfortable living with it. 

A sudden weight on your shoulder snaps you out of your thoughts. 

''Thank you, really.'' Tamotsu mutters into your neck, ''I only went to therapy because you--you who stuck with me despite everything, asked. I thought I had nothing else to lose, and it felt good to be cared for so deeply.'' 

Your hand comes up to stroke his back as you crane your head to face him better, 

''That's what a family is for, isn't it?''


End file.
